


Crossed orbits, may we meet

by Hyaku



Category: No Straight Roads (Video Game)
Genre: Cooking, Emotions, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Feels, Light Angst, Misunderstandings, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26885347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyaku/pseuds/Hyaku
Summary: First impressions are the most important, and they tend to stick for a while.You don't like DJ Subatomic Supernova, your boss. It would even be fair to say you hate his guts. But something happens down the line that makes you... reconsider.
Relationships: DJ Subatomic Supernova & Reader, DJ Subatomic Supernova x Reader, DJ Subatomic Supernova/Reader
Comments: 21
Kudos: 88





	1. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Now that i've gotten all the smut out of my system for a bit, welcome to SLOW BURN.

It was only your first week of working at the Planetarium, and you _hated_ him. His superior attitude, the way he deemed you stupid and inferior to him, his annoying demands… You were patient, but this guy was rubbing you the wrong way.

And you weren’t even doing a job that required constant interaction with him. You were a technician for his set, so most of the time you just fixed whatever broke, because the Planetarium _was_ old and had been put together as a night club a bit hastily. But DJ Subatomic Supernova – _what a pompous name_ , you thought – also had very specific demands concerning the way his stage was set, and those were the times you had to bear with him.

Rearranging the number of planets for his shows was a thing, but when he asked you _again_ to change the axis of one of them because, quote : “It isn’t accurate to the real one, that’s why”, you were getting a bit pissed. You were here to make sure the place ran smoothly without any of the stage apparatus falling down and flattening someone like a pancake, not babysitting a big… _manchild_ !

You didn’t like to stand out, but your irritation was getting the best of you.

On the first days, you tested the waters by asking your coworkers if your boss was always like this.

“Yeah, you’ll get used to it. Or you could always quit, that has happened too.”

“I kinda need to eat though” you said sheepishly.

“I can understand that” they laughed, and went back to work.

As time went by, DJ Subatomic Supernova began to really get under your skin, and more often than not you started voicing your discontent by mimicking his lines with a high-pitched voice.

By the end of the month, you were openly stating that you hated his guts, sometimes even within his ear range. A part of you wanted him to know how much he annoyed you, so that maybe, _maybe_ he would change a bit.

But of course, he didn’t.

So each day you went to work, angrier and angrier, your coworkers gradually receding from you as you revealed your true colors. Also, you had a belt full of heavy tools and they didn’t want you to use those on any of them as an outlet for your rage.

Your opinion of DJ Subatomic Supernova was now pretty much cemented into “unredeemable asshole” when something happened that made you reconsider a bit.

It was after two rockers had crashed the show and booted your boss out of his place.

The crew didn’t know what to do. The scene was full of debris and most of the equipment was now unusable, even the planets you had so painstakingly adjusted were shattered to bits. Huge gashes marred the screens on the walls, and a chunk of the roof was gone. And more importantly, the district wasn’t NSR’s anymore.

So you waited, and waited as DJ Subatomic Supernova’s assistant tried to contact him, before telling you to stay put until she found him.

He was in a pitiful state when she brought him back. Clothes torn and tattered, his orb cracked, something black and gooey dripping from it onto his chest. He didn’t have the bravado and stature he had before, even if it was discrete. His shoulders drooped slightly, he didn’t puff out his chest as much, if you had to put it in words, he was _dimmer_. A star that had lost his light.

And for once, you stopped considering him like an annoyance, but like a person. A person that, despite his attitude, had hopes, dreams, aspirations, and could be broken. And truly, seeing him like this made your heart ache a bit.

Once he was back on stage, even though Bunk Bed Junction fans were booing him, he took an instant to look around. He took in the stage, the ceiling, the screens… and the people. You saw him stare at each and every person, and sometimes bending towards his assistant, asking them for something. Then, he straightened a bit and cleared his throat.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am truly sorry to announce that our nightly occurrence ends today. I am glad to see that none of you were harmed during the battle that took place earlier, and I would like to apologize for putting you all in danger.”

You shared a look with your colleagues.

You were up in the stage lights when the battle had started, so you couldn’t get down. Since you were situated so high, you were perhaps the one that saw the altercation the best. And truly, when DJ Subatomic Supernova’s orb had cracked and the black hole had appeared… You were glad your harness was securely attached to the sturdy steel frame holding the projectors. It was a miracle nobody got caught up in that.

“I would also like to thank all of you for your work here at the Planetarium, and would like to assure you I appreciated everyone’s company during this ballad through space. I hope we can meet again in the future, but for now it is farewell, my friends.”

You could only stare a bit dumbfounded when you heard him pronounce those words. The arrogant DJ Subatomic Supernova, showing respect and thankfulness ?? But at the same time, it sounded honest. It sounded _heartfelt_ , and it stung even more. Despite all the jests, the degrading names… you felt like a door had opened from him to you, a path to understanding, unhindered by social etiquette.

And that made you reflect on your own attitude. Maybe you took everything a bit too literally. Maybe he was just acting as his persona, and didn’t mean the nicknames he gave you and all the others. While you thought that his defeat wouldn’t affect you that much, you found yourself being truly, sincerely sad for him. Empathetic. Because you had misjudged him all this time and been an awful person behind his back. Maybe you were the pompous asshole after all.

You were lost in thought when one of your colleagues, an older guy that was appreciated by everyone, gently tapped your back.

“C’mon, it’s time to go.”

You raised your head, casting one last look towards your boss, and shuffled away with the rest of the crew.

That night, it rained on the Cast Tech district. Big, heavy drops that raced down the windows and drenched everything in grey and cold.

You thought about the open roof of the club and the damage that would cause, even though it should be none of your problem now.

You thought about your coworkers, and how they would react, even though you wouldn’t see them the next day.

You thought about how your heart felt like it was torn open like the Planetarium and emotions were gushing through, that you wanted it or not.

You couldn’t stop thinking about DJ Subatomic Supernova.


	2. Curry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to write this. Hope you enjoy it.

The next time you encountered him, you were grocery shopping at your local store. It was already dark outside, night falling earlier as winter was growing near.

It had been a few rough… weeks ? You weren’t sure. Time stretched and bent as you no longer had any kind of routine to hold onto. Other artists had been forcefully evicted from their districts, again. Vinyl City was burning and there was little you could do about it.

As you tossed some vegetables into your basket, you noticed a large figure standing in front of the freezers. He did not wear his usual jacket, but he was unmistakable. And currently filling his basket with boxes and boxes of Mr. Dodo ice cream.

When you saw him reach for the fifth one, you couldn’t help but call him out.

“Are you really going to eat just… _this_ ?” you tried to bite down the chuckle in your throat.

He turned around to look at you, and he seemed to remember you, at least.

“Do you have anything better to suggest ?”

Prickly.

He turned back to the frozen treats, getting one more box on top of the others.

Now that you had initiated the conversation, you weren’t sure where you were heading. It would have been easier to ignore him, you were enough of a wreck yourself.

Cycling through your options, you looked down at your own groceries and what you had planned to cook for yourself while you still had the will to.

“Would you… want to eat, with me ?” you asked after a moment’s hesitation.

Something compelled you to do it, but you couldn’t grasp what. Pity ? Compassion ? Empathy ? Or maybe you just needed someone to talk to, in your tiny apartment, just for once. The silence was heavy on your shoulders these days, and part of you just wanted to let all social conventions burn down. He had been your boss, yes, but he was someone and so were you. Sharing a meal was normal, right ?

“I will agree to that.”

You looked up at him.

“But I am still keeping these.” He pointed to the ice pops.

You sighed.

You looked at your basket and mentally reviewed what you needed to cook, again. You didn’t trust yourself to not forget a key ingredient, in the state you were in. Drifting through the days didn’t help with your already fallible memory.

“What do you think about curry ?”

He seemed to think for a bit then nodded, and off you were to gather the last elements for your dinner.

Once you got back to your apartment, you removed your shoes and started to prepare the ingredients. Peeling the carrots, the potatoes. You didn’t like peeling the latter, it always made your hand cramp. But cooking once in a while wasn’t so bad.

You directed your guest towards the low table in the center of the kitchen, one of the rare place relatively free of mess.

DJ Subatomic Supernova was comically huge in your modest home, the furniture looking like kids’ playsets next to him. Cramped shelves, appliances stacked on top of each other, cupboards reaching the ceiling… That was your reality of living in the constantly expanding Vinyl City.

As your hands fell into a routine, you thought about how DJ’s place would look like. Bigger, for sure, and dark. You didn’t envision him somewhere warm or bright, but it was probably influenced by having seen him in the dim and blue lights of the club countless nights. You chuckled as you imagined him in a loft, all tech and futuristic furniture. He really didn’t fit in your average, modern Japanese-style living, did he ?

Having peeled all the vegetables, you turned around to him, sitting awkwardly on one of the cushions laid around the table.

“Can you chop this ? I’ll be looking over the onions” you said as you handed him a knife, a wooden board and a bowl full of produce.

“And here I thought I was to be your guest.” He rumbled while accepting the tools.

You didn’t answer anything. You knew how to make curry all alone, that was for sure, but there was something to making it with someone else. A connivance, a different feeling to the already hearty dish. You enjoyed cooking for yourself when you had the headspace for it, but it was something mellower. Cooking for someone was dedication, cooking with someone was the warm, open feeling of sharing. And you felt that, somehow, both of you needed it.

As you stirred the onions around until they were nice and golden, you looked over to see how DJ was faring. Even with a knife that looked about as big as one of his fingers, he was nimbly dicing the carrots and potatoes.

“Woah, I didn’t expect you to actually know how to cook” you chimed as you came closer, watching his movements intently.

“What do you take me for, some kind of brute ?” he retorted, his tone slightly softer.

“I just can’t see you in an apron” you shrugged.

You didn’t think of him as a brute, as he had said, despite his stature. There was something delicate and noble about how he moved around, about how he spoke. Even his haughty persona matched that general aura he exuded. If anything, you thought he got stuff delivered from nice restaurants, or maybe had a chef to cook for him. Though that would be perhaps too fine-dining for someone buying five boxes of Mr. Dodo ice pops.

As he finished chopping the vegetables, you added them to the pot along with some water, and let it simmer for a bit. You then washed the rice and set it to cook.

You were glad he was there to help you, because you couldn’t count the times you had actually forgotten to put the rice to cook while making curry, and had to wait for an excruciating 20 minutes with perfectly good curry making your mouth water.

At last, the broth was ready to receive the roux.

You split the block along the lines and dropped the soft cubes into the simmering pot, while stirring. It took about five minutes for the curry to get to its ideal consistency, not too runny but not too thick, laden with soft carrots and potatoes.

Moving around your small kitchen, you grabbed two bowls and spoons. You filled them with rice, then topped them with a generous portion of steaming curry. The sight filled your heart with pride and with glittering eyes, you swirled around and claimed

“Dinner’s ready !!”

Putting down the two meals down onto the table, you also quickly grabbed some glasses and a jug of water.

“Here it is, my special curry, enjoy !” you said as you grabbed your spoon and took a bit of rice and curry, blowing on it to make it cooler.

“How would it be special ?” DJ Subatomic Supernova asked.

“That’s because we made it” you answered before getting your first bite.

It was too hot, as always, but so good. You invariably burned yourself while eating curry, too eager and the sauce always scorching. You knew that the next day, your tongue would be numb and achy, but you didn’t mind. Curry was a bit of that too.

As the soft aroma permeated all your senses, mouthful after mouthful, you realized your guest had barely touched his own portion.

“You don't like it ?” you asked, suddenly very worried, as you were halfway through your own meal.

DJ seemed to fidget a bit on his seat, before settling down again.

“No. I am simply not comfortable with eating in front of people.” He finally said.

It took you a moment to register why he was saying that. You looked at his face, or should you say his lack of it, and it clicked. You hadn’t even thought about how he ate, but you reckoned he could feel uneasy about it.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize."

A pause.

“Maybe we could turn around… ?” you weren’t even sure if that wouldn’t be more awkward than before.

“Thank you.”

And after a bit of shuffling and pushing the furniture around, you were back to back with DJ Subatomic Supernova. You were still looking into your kitchen, while he was sitting towards your bedroom, effectively making you not face each other.

With some relief, you heard the tinking of his spoon as he finally ate. You resumed your own meal.

There was something unexpectedly soothing about eating like this, in silence, back to each other. He was so big, it felt like you were leaning on a wall.

But if you thought about his perspective, you must’ve felt quite unsteady, unreliable. Like a castle of cards, ready to topple over.

Maybe that was how it felt to be at the top, to be brilliant. Nobody to lean on, always too _much_.

Your heart swelled at the thought and you took another spoonful in. You didn’t know if the warmth inside of you was because of the curry, or something else. Your nose itched and you sniffed. Tears welled up as you felt tinier and tinier, your back pressed against his. You sniffed again, and in a bout of annoyance, you pressed yourself against him more, as if to lift him up. As if to prove you could support him.

“Are you faring well ?” he asked, turning slightly towards you.

“Yeah, yeah… It’s just a bit spicy.” You said as you gulped down the last of your bowl and set it down loudly on the table, wiping your eyes with your sleeve.

It was when DJ Subatomic Supernova had left, after a frugal “Thank you for the meal”, that you realized.

All it took was a shared pot of curry and the warmth steady in your back to have your walls crumbling down again.

What was it with him managing to reach your – you thought – hardened heart with such ease ?


End file.
